Bone Deep (7 page)

“My husband enlisted soon after we moved here. We never really got a chance to make this place our home
together, and now it’s too late.”

Sarah sat and crossed her legs, holding the throw pillow on her lap. “My sister is married and liv
es
in
California
so I haven’t seen her in years. I really miss her. We fought like cats growing up, but we were close too. Letters and phone calls aren’t the same as spending time together.”

As he listened,
Tom rotated his left
shoulder and w
inced.

“You did a lot of chopping today. If you’re not used to it, you’ll probably be really
sore
by tomorrow
.
You
need
some
liniment on your muscles.”

Sarah got up and went to the bathroom
for
the
ointment
. She stopped to look at herself in the mirror,
her gaze locked with her own
hazel eyes. “What are you doing?” She was
about
to give
a
man
she barely knew a massage and
couldn’t deny it was partly because she wanted to touch him so badly.

B
ack
in
the living room
,
Tom sat cross-legged, gazing into the fire. She knelt behind
him
,
sitting
on her heels.

“You’ll need to take off your shirt.”
Her cheeks burned although she tried to sound clinical.

He
obeyed as Sarah
unscrewed the cap and squirted a dollop
of liniment
on her palm.
The ointment heated between her palms and
the strong smell of mint and camphor rose. She placed her hands on Tom’s shoulders and began to massage the t
au
t muscles. He faced the fire and held very still as she touched him.
T
ension coiled in the muscles under his warm skin. She kneaded from his neck
across the top of his shoulders,
trying to pull the tightness out.

He inhaled sharply as she
dug into
the tender muscles.

“Am I pressing too hard? John always complained
I hurt more than I helped.”

“No.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s good.”

The sensation of
his
hot skin beneath her hands sent waves of desire through her
, rolling like the ship tossed on the waves of his back
.
Her sex ached and she
clamped her thighs together, trying to
ignore
her
growing lust
.

A
s she
kneaded his back, she
was able to
examine his body art
at close range at last
. Above the large ship between his shoulder blades was a starry sky. In the water below were fishes, mermaids and sea monsters. On his lower back, beneath the ocean floor, the flames of hell crackled and demons danced. The scene was interrupted by the waistband of his
trousers
--John’s
trousers
. She
wanted to
see what happened below but her view stopped at his waist and her hands did too.

She thought about John and how he would admire that beautiful
sailing
ship, so like one of his models. Then she thought about the hours of pricking needles that such a complex tapestry had required. It must have been painful
and unrelenting
. She brushed her hand over the beautiful, awful design
once more
then started on his arms.

F
rom
his bulging biceps she worked down
to his forearms where the angel and the de
vil
dwelled.
His muscles were so hard and his flesh so warm beneath her stroking hands. She had to lean close in order to reach all the way down to his hands, and the heat of his back baked into her. She inhaled his scent, soapy and clean but with an undeniable musk of maleness underneath.

By the time she
’d
finished
the massage
, her hands
ached
from kneading and pressing. She ran them lightly over the silky skin of his back once more then cla
s
ped his shoulders. “Done.”

It occurred to her
that beyond an occasional moan when she hit a sensitive spot, Tom had remained silent throughout the massage. More than silent, completely still. His head was
bowed and he trembled slightly.

“Tom
, a
re you all right?
” She rested her hand
between
his shoulder
s
and leaned around to
peer into his face.

He looked at her with anguished eyes.
Tears instantly sprang to her eyes in response, and she murmured, “I’m sorry,” even though s
he didn’t know
what
she was apologizing
for
. She
gently rubbed the back of his neck
.

He closed his eyes and a tear escaped to trickle down his cheek.

“Sh
, i
t’s all right,” she soothed, continuing to
stroke his neck
.
If his story was true, h
e
’
d probably not been touched by gentle hands since he was very young. Her heart ached at the thought of so many years of loneliness and
isolation
.
She’d suffered a bit of that with the loss of her husband,
and
could imagine that pain magnified a hundredfold, with absolutely no one caring for his welfare.

She slid her arms around
Tom
and gathered him close.
She rubbed his back and c
radled his
shorn
head. H
is face
nestled into
the crook of her neck. After a moment, his
arms slid
around her, crushing her against him.

“Sh,” she
continued to murmur
as she rocked
back and forth
.
It felt so good to be in a man’s arms again and she was taking comfort as much as giving it. She held him until his trembling subsided and
for many
long, silent moments
after
that
.

Her cheek pressed against his head, the stubble growing on his scalp scraping her cheek, and the heat between them began to build.
His hands
glided over her back
then mov
ed
up to
slide into
her hair.

His face shifted in the hollow between her shoulder and neck
, and s
he realized with a start that he was
inhaling
her scent and brushing his lips
lightly
over her skin. She
held
her breath
as the sensation in her private parts grew from a dull ache to sharp need
.
She closed her
eyes and almost moaned
her
pleasure at
his breath
brushing the hollow above her collarbone.

But, oh God, this wasn’t right. She
must
n’t. She was in mourning and
Tom
was
too different, too damaged, too strange. She pulled away from him.

He
stared into her eyes, freezing her like a wild animal in
bright headlights
. Their faces were only inches apart. His startlingly pink tongue swept out to lick his lips. Her own mouth opened in response. It would be so easy. A slight inclination of her head and their lips would touch. She felt his warm breath and started to lean in, forgetting all the reasons she shouldn’t.

Just then a
log snapped loudly
in the fireplace, sending out a
shower of sparks.

They both
turned
toward
the fire, the intense mood broken. She got up
,
grabbed the poker and extinguished the live
embers
that
were burning tiny holes in
the hearthrug.
Then s
he hung the poker on the rack and
shut the doors on the
dying blaze.

“It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

She didn’t look at
Tom
as she spoke. She knew she had to get some distance from
him
or something would happen that couldn’t be undone.

Tom rose too
and
stood before the fire watching
her
extinguish the lights
around the room
. When she
’d
was finished,
t
hey stood in the dim living room, making no move to go upstairs.

And then
his
husky
voice
floated through the darkness
. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She understood that he was thanking her for more than a massage and wished she could offer him even more comfort, more
sympathy,
but
it wasn’t possible
.

She led the way upstairs
and
bid Tom good night in the hallway.
It was a relief to close her bedroom door behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, feeling as if she’d just escaped
intentionally
diving over the edge of a cliff.

After
prepar
ing
herself for the night
, she
sat in bed reading
a magazine article
about Truman’s vision for post-war
America
. But after
a
half hour
of reading the same paragraph
, she gave up
and
tossed the magazine aside.
Staring
out the window at the night sky,
she wondered
what she
’
d gotten herself into by inviting Tom into her home. What was she allowing to develop between them?
It
was wrong, but God it had felt so good holding him and being held. With a groan of frustration, she grabbed the pillow,
and
hugged it tight.

It was going to be another
rest
less night.

Chapter
Four

T
he next morning
a
s Sarah fried potatoes and eggs for breakfast
, she had to admit it was a pleasure not to have to rush to take care of the animals
first thing
. Tom had taken
on
that chore.
And
it was a pleasure to be cooking for two again. It gave her a warm feeling knowing
he’d
walk in the back door
any
minute
with
a steaming pail of milk, and
then
sit down at
the
table to eat what she
’
d prepared for him.

But none of that made it any easier to meet Tom’s eyes
following
the intimate moment they’d shared
the previous
night. The silence over breakfast felt awkward and uncomfortable and
Sarah finally interrupted it with a brisk announcement.

“I’m going to go into town this morning. I
have errands to run
. Will you be all right here on your own?”

He nodded.

Before
leaving
, Sarah assigned Tom the task of cleaning
Edison
’s tack
and
asked if he
’
d
scrape
the picket fence
, preparing it for a coat of paint
.
Once again s
he realized they weren’t discussing when he
’
d be moving on. It was
almost a given that he was going to stay
.

A
last look in her rearview mirror
as
she drove away
showed
Tom
growing smaller behind her. He lifted a hand and Sarah waved back
with an odd feeling of loss, as if he might not be there when she returned.